


new world order

by fruectose



Series: do NOT call me a swiftie [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Do NOT want this to be my brand tho, Gen, Inspired by Taylor Swift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29399247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruectose/pseuds/fruectose
Summary: Luke and Annabeth through the years, inspired by Tolerate It by Miss Americana herself <3 it's similar to the one inspired by seven so like. idk do with that what you will xox
Series: do NOT call me a swiftie [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159709
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	new world order

“Are you even paying-  _ Luke _ . You aren’t listening to me!”

“No, I am, I am- I swear.” Luke looks up from his book distractedly and it takes him a moment to focus on Annabeth. She doesn’t know what book could possibly hold all his attention like this- in all her time knowing him, she doesn’t think she’s seen him read so much as the No Pushing Campers Into Lava sign on the lava wall. He blinks at her and sets his book down. “You were saying about the time when Connor, uh…”

Annabeth crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I was telling you how  _ Clarisse _ thinks opossums are rodents- and she’s totally wrong, too, because I read once that they’re like kangaroos. They carry their babies-” She stops herself when she notices his eyes glaze over. “Okay  _ what _ is going on with you?”

She is silent for long enough to draw him back to the present and he shakes his head, running his hand through his hair and tousling it. He’s nervous, Annabeth thinks- nervous, perhaps, about whatever it is behind her that his eyes keep flickering to. She looks discreetly over her shoulder, where Lexi, Bryce, and his girlfriend Jenna are talking.

“Oh my  _ gods! _ ” Annabeth cries when she figures it out. She climbs easily onto Luke’s lap and pokes him in the chest. “You have a crush on Lexi!”

“What? No I don’t- no… what?” Luke’s cheeks flush a bright red and he pushes her off of him. “Shut up. Fuck off.”

“I’m going to tell Chiron you said a bad word.” Annabeth tells him and he sticks his tongue out at her. She does the mature thing and makes a face back at him, and she knows by the way he rolls his eyes and pulls her back into his side that she’s forgiven for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.

“I’m trying to get through this book.” He holds it up. “It’s her favourite. I’m just trying to figure out what it is she likes about it- it’s a drag.”

“That’s Agatha Christie.” Annabeth says. “How does Agatha Christie bore you?”

“Because I, personally, don’t care about who killed the guy. Mystery is  _ so _ overrated.”

“ _ You’re  _ overrated.” Annabeth retorts.

“Very clever.”

“I think it’s romantic.” Annabeth states. Luke raises an eyebrow and she can’t fight the grin growing on her lips. “That you’re reading a book for her. You’re in  _ love _ .” She sings and Luke throws his head back.

“You’re eight years old. What do you know about love?”

Luke’s arm fits itself around her, holding her stable and upright on the Hermes cabin’s bench, and it feels a lot like a shield might. She presses her shoulder to his hip and kicks her legs while they dangle off the edge. She watches him as he studies her, the corners of his lips tugging up slightly.

“I know everything there is to know about everything.” Annabeth tells him sagely and Luke laughs.

“Does that mean one day you’ll have a crush on some idiot boy at Camp?” Luke asks, tone teasing, and Annabeth scrunches up her nose.

“No.” She promises. “Boys are gross and icky.”

“That’s the spirit.” Luke nods and holds his hand up for a high-five, and she’s altogether too happy to oblige. “No boys, no girls-  _ no _ romance for you, you hear me? You stay here like this, small and attached to my side- for the rest of your life.”

“ _ You’re _ a boy.” Annabeth points out. She considers it. “Lexi probably thinks boys are gross and that’s why she doesn’t like you.”

“Oh, trust me. Lexi likes boys  _ just _ fine.”

“She’s also very pretty. Maybe she likes boys who are pretty.” Annabeth says and Luke frowns.

“Hey. I’m pretty. I’m a pretty boy.” He pokes her in the side and she laughs. “Tell me I’m pretty.”

Annabeth squirms her way out of his grip and laughs. “No you’re not.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Luke says, and everything about the way he looks at her is a reminder that he loves her.

He loves her now and he’ll love her tomorrow and he will never let her down. It’s the two of them and the memory of Thalia- she knows it in the way he always has her back, the way he supports her and keeps her close. That is just the thing. She  _ knows _ Luke- knows him through the words he says and the silences between them, knows him in what he does and all he stops himself from doing. He is her family- her biggest hero, her favourite person, her brother; now and forever. 

He reaches out his hand and she places both of hers on his palm. He’s larger than her- he’s fifteen and tall and lanky- but she feels secure like this, his pulse against her palm. They are here, they are alive, they are together.

  
  


~

  
  


Annabeth’s eleventh birthday present is the best one yet.

Luke comes  _ back _ . He comes back and he’s alone and she sees him from Thalia’s tree and she  _ knows _ that life is going to be great again. She ignores Argus’ calls for her to stay behind the border, racing down the hill and launching herself right into Luke. He catches her, of course he does- he has never let her fall. She can hear his laugh in her hair and feel him press a kiss to her cheek.

“You shouldn’t have crossed Camp borders.” He tells her sternly, but holds her hand and guides her back anyway.

“Who cares? You’re here! You’re  _ back! _ ”

“Just in time, too, right?” Luke asks, ruffling her hair. “Happy birthday, Fuck-o.”

“Argus!” Annabeth wails as they make their way back into Camp. “Luke’s calling me mean names again!”

Argus rolls all his eyes at her and Luke chuckles. The rush of having him home starts to fade and she takes in the large, angry red scar over his eye, slicing cleanly through his eyebrow and crossing down his cheek. The words  _ pretty boy _ float into her mind, but Luke isn’t pretty like he used to be anymore. She’s getting taller now too; tall enough that she can reach her arm up and touch it. Luke winces and pulls away from her.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He cuts her off harshly before she can form a question.

“Okay.”

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks. Annabeth shrugs.

“Camp is boring without you.” She says. “You were gone three weeks.”

“Yeah. What a place to come back to.” Luke’s tone is bitter and catches her by surprise.

Just like that, walking hand in hand with him, Annabeth can already tell this isn’t the same boy who’d hugged her goodbye and made her promise to floss- not the Luke who’d kissed his girlfriend and given his best friends bro-hugs, the Luke who was full of ambition and promise and good things to offer the world. The scar has changed him- Annabeth just can’t tell if it’s a good thing yet.

“Chiron will want to know how your quest was. Did you see any cool monsters? Did you show them who’s boss?” She asks instead. “Oh my gods. I should tell Lexi you’re back. She was so worried-”

Luke’s laugh is cold. Annabeth sees him, but barely recognizes him. A lump forms in her throat and her eyes start to well up.

“Lexi.” Luke’s laugh is humourless. “I almost forgot  _ that _ was a thing.”

“What do you mean you forgot?” Annabeth demands. “You  _ love _ her- she’s your  _ girlfriend _ .”

“Imagine,” Luke’s gaze is somewhere on the horizon, but she thinks he’s maybe in a different time altogether. “ _ Love _ . In these times. How pathetic. As if we were placed here on this earth as an act of  _ love _ .”

He says it there, still under the shade of Thalia Grace’s tree, and Annabeth is too young to appreciate the irony of it all. She stares at him, a once handsome face now scarred and lit up by the early morning light. A good man, she thinks. Eighteen years old with all the wisdom of the world in his brow.

“Does that mean you…” Annabeth stops walking and Luke doesn’t realise until he’s a couple steps further. Then he stops and looks at her with a frown, and this time she can tell that he is seeing her- truly and in real time. His focus is on  _ her _ . “Do you not love me anymore?”

Her voice is small and she hates it. Her favourite thing about Luke is that he’s the only person who has never treated her as lesser for being younger than him. Right now, on Half-Blood Hill in the break of dawn she crumbles a little under his gaze and she has never felt more foolish. Luke’s shoulders relax and his features soften immediately back to the boy she’s always known. It’s so quick, such a natural transition, that Annabeth can forget the anger she saw within seconds. He closes the distance between them and scoops her up like he used to, slinging her over his shoulder while she let out a giggle.

“If you think for one moment, Missy,” He says, twirling them around once as she squealed in delight. “That there will  _ ever  _ be a day I don’t love you,” He sets her down and it takes a moment for the world to stop spinning. “You’re absolutely fucking insane. You’re my little sister. The thorn in my side. What would I be without you?”

To emphasise his point, he shoves her roughly, sending her toppling to her butt in the grass. She glares up at him and he laughs again- a free, warm laugh that sounds like what she imagines a parent’s hug might feel like, and he is  _ Luke _ again.

“Bet you can’t catch up to me.  _ Loser _ Annabeth.” He calls over his shoulder, taking off down the hill and Annabeth doesn’t let another second pass before pushing herself to her feet and running after him.

“It’s not fair!” She cries behind him. “You’re a cheater! I’m telling on you!” 

“Only if you catch me!”

  
  


~

  
Cold, alone, betrayed and in an inhuman amount of pain.

It’s possibly the worst way to go. It feels an awful lot like her worst nightmare come to life- poor Annabeth Chase, they’ll say. Died a tragic, pathetic, lonely death- and that’s how they’ll remember her life; unwanted by her parents, taken advantage of by her family, forgotten by her best friends. She’d die never having seen Pisa, or the pyramids, or the Hoover Dam. The weight of the sky pushes down, down, down and eventually, the voices around her fade to silence and the world gets dimmer and dimmer until everything goes dark.

And then, she wakes up.

She wakes up, surprising, perhaps, herself more than anybody else- and her eyes adjust to the darkness. He’s right there, sitting over her, dim lights glistening off the sweat on his forehead and his blonde hair sticking to his face. Annabeth tries to scramble as far back; as far  _ away _ from him as she possibly can- but her arms and legs are tied firmly down. 

“Annabeth, sweetheart.” Luke says gently, reaching out to press his palm on her forehead. She squirms and tries to scream, her throat rubbing raw but the gag in her mouth stops any sound at all. Her eyes begin to burn with fresh hot tears. _ Don’t touch me _ , she wants to cry.  _ Please, don’t touch me _ . Luke frowns. “You’re burning up. You need some nectar.”

Annabeth struggles against her bonds but her body is still too weak from the weight of the sky. Tears are rolling down her cheeks and she can’t stop the sobs that escape her, drowned out by the tie in her mouth. She shakes her head- she doesn’t want his nectar, doesn’t want his touch, doesn’t want him near her at all. How can he look at her like this, with concern and worry- like he hadn’t just left her to die for the world he was building?

He strokes her hair gingerly, as if reacquainting himself with how to be around her, and Annabeth will never forgive him. He broke himself, and she stayed quiet. He broke her, but she’ll build herself up again. He broke  _ them- _ broke their family and all that he had promised into a million pieces- and she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to look at him the same way again.

“It’s okay, Annabeth.” He says quietly. “It’s me. It’s just me here. You’re okay.”

He pulls his sword out, Backbiter’s double metal blade casting a wicked glow into her eyes, and she thinks this is the last thing she’ll ever see. Her favourite person on Earth, drunk on possibility and cruelty, and a sword created to inflict pain on anything it touches. This is how the story ends for girls like her, for the Earth’s unwanted children- alone and miserable. She closes her eyes and chokes down a sob and braces herself for Charon’s ferry. 

_ Shlink _ !

The gag falls cleanly out of her mouth and she gasps for air, chest heaving as Luke helps her up.

“You didn’t kill me.” She rasps. Her throat has been scraped dry.

“Of course not.” Luke says. “I would never put your life in danger.”

“You tricked me.” Annabeth can’t bring anymore words out. Her tears flow more freely now and she lets out a sob, hanging her head in shame. “You  _ tricked _ me.”

“I’m sorry.” Luke is so quiet she can barely hear him over her sobbing. “I’m so sorry, I really am. I never meant… you shouldn’t have been caught up in this. But I was hoping this would convince you to join me. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Safe!” Annabeth cries. “ _ You _ would keep me  _ safe _ ?”

There was a time her safety meant something to him. Seven years old and running through the countryside, crawling under and hopping over barbed wire fences; there was a time he was there to cushion her falls and plaster her cuts. There is no sign of that Luke in the man before her now- all she sees is a version of him with a scar on his eye and anger in his heart.

  
  


“You won’t understand now.” Luke tells her. He holds nectar to her lips and waits patiently for her to cave and take a sip. They might be a while. “I’ll wait, and you’ll see. I’m doing the right thing.”

“You’re hurting everyone you’ve ever loved.”

“No.” Luke shakes his head. “I’m building a better life for everyone I love.”

“Look at what you’ve sacrificed for it.” Annabeth says.  _ I don’t even recognise you anymore _ . “Is this all worth it?”

Luke runs his thumb over her cheek, his expression far away. He used to be her hero. In her eyes, Luke Castellan was greater than any god in existence. He was living proof that even the skies above couldn’t hold her down; he was every beautiful painting, every kind word ever written. Look what he’s become now. She draws away from the glass of nectar, but he doesn’t seem bothered by her act of rebellion.

“It is.” He says. “For something better, I’ll pay with the world.”

~

  
  


“Are you okay?”

Annabeth looks up distractedly and sees Percy frowning at her. She sits up straight in the rec room and absently bounces the ping pong ball off the table.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you haven’t said a single word in the last-” Percy makes a big show of checking his watch. “Ten minutes.” He shrugs. “In Annabeth time, that’s like, four eternities of silence.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes and shoves him lightly. It’s nice, she supposes, to be talking to Percy like this. There are a million words left unsaid between them, thoughts she can’t quite bring to her tongue and emotions too sweet for her taste; but they settle into an awkward camaraderie and she appreciates that she’s able to relax, just a little, in special moments like these- despite everything that has happened this past summer. She doesn’t know the first thing about what’s going on in his mind- the gods know she might never fully understand him- but it’s better like this now than it usually is. At least she has the chance- before one of them makes the wrong move and they blow up again- to catch up on his life.

The rec room is empty, counsellor’s meeting long since over. Everyone had been assigned their missions and, as per usual, Chiron had vetoed any of Annabeth’s offers. She would stay here, close to him and safe at Camp- while all her friends took off on dangerous quests to stop Kronos from rising once more. Absolutely fucking fantastic.

“I’m just... in a mood.” She admits. To his credit, Percy doesn’t take it personally.

“Don’t be. Camp needs you here.”

“No, they don’t.” Annabeth says miserably. “Everyone just wants me out of the way because they think-,”

  
She can’t bring herself to say it and Percy’s shoulders stiffen. What few seconds of peace they shared evaporates just like that, and Annabeth is too tired to be surprised. This is how they exist now; like a ticking bomb waiting to go off. They navigate a minefield of things they can’t bring themselves to acknowledge- Luke, Kronos, Calypso, Rachel… Mount St. Helens- and there are few precious moments when it seems like their steps synchronise, when life isn’t agonising anymore, and somehow that makes the tension and ache worth it. But then the moment is gone and one of them missteps and it’s days before they can start afresh.

  
  


“They think you can’t face Kronos.” Percy’s tone is cold and all hints of laughter have disappeared. Annabeth feels like she’s trapped under the weight of the sky again. A shiver runs down her spine and she bites her tongue to stop herself from arguing.

“I’ll be fine.” She says and Percy rolls his eyes.

“Like you were fine the last time?” He asks harshly and Annabeth feels red hot tears sting at her eyes.

“Last time was different. You don’t understand.” Her voice shakes. Percy’s face starts to turn almost purple.

“No. You’re right.” He says sarcastically. “ _ I’m _ the one who totally fucking froze when we were faced with Kronos. That was  _ me _ . It was in the prophecy, Annabeth. You lost your _ love  _ to worse than death. Now you can’t deal with it.”

Anywhere else, Annabeth might have had a clever comeback. She might have deflected, brought up the fact that Percy fell in love with a goddess and only came back so he could choose a mortal to lead  _ her _ quest. That he has no right to criticise her because he doesn’t know what it’s like to have his family turn their back on him. Any anger that builds up in her stomach dies by the time it reaches her tongue because her eyes catch sight of the empty chairs around the ping pong table.

One of them is meant to be Luke’s, she thinks. He’s supposed to have sat there and debated sending Annabeth off on a mission to stop evil titan lords from taking over the world. Some part of her has been waiting- waiting for him to trudge up Half-Blood Hill like he had on her eleventh birthday so she could run into his arms again. Waiting for him to see the light and redeem himself and all the horrible mistakes he’d made. He was older than her, wiser by a thousand times- he was meant to be  _ here _ .

She’s tired. She’s tired of waiting for a boy who’d never come and now he’s dead.

There’s no point of her looking expectantly at the gap in the Hermes table he’d left behind; there’s no more prayers to be said or hope to hold on to. Luke’s story ends here- with Kronos- and it’s all Annabeth’s fault.

For one second she debates coming clean to Percy. For one second she tries to pretend they don’t have a billion things keeping them apart so she can tell him what’s really been bugging her- that Luke is  _ dead _ and it’s all her fault for not running away with him.

He’d  _ trusted _ her. He’d depended on her to fall back in line for him because that’s what she was meant to do. Luke had come to Annabeth under the assumption that she would help him, that she would run away with him and set right his wrongs- and  _ she _ had been the one to refuse. She took a sledgehammer to the weakening legs of all of Western Civilisation and through that, to her own family and now she is paying the price for it. How could she ever tell Percy that?

“Maybe you should leave me to it, then.” She says coldly. As if he has the right to be jealous.

But Percy isn’t done with her just yet, it seems. He straightens up and sets his jaw and when she meets his gaze, his eye flashes with anger. His lips curl and she knows he’s looking for something horrible to say.

“Most people think you’re the spy, you know.” His words sound like poison. “Maybe they’re right.”

Annabeth feels a certain cynicism take over her. Who does he think he is, she wants to ask. Son of the Earthshaker but  _ she _ is the one who ruined them all.

“Maybe they are,” Her voice has a foreign bite to it. “You don’t know the first thing I’m capable of.”

  
  


~

There’s something to be said of the power Annabeth feels when she lights the shroud on fire.

She watches her own fingers, curled deceptively delicately around the torch and turning white under her tight grip. Chiron helps her light it and she takes a moment to take it in- May Castellan is here, cured of her curse only to be faced with an even more horrifying reality. Chiron and Mr. D, of course, are in attendance as a sign of respect to the messenger god himself, who hangs at the back with his arms crossed over his chest. Thalia Grace and Percy Jackson sit together, as far away as is physically possible from May, and Grover plays what might be Frank Sinatra on his reed pipes off to the side.

Luke’s shroud is green- it’s his favourite colour- and embroidered with silver lettering. Annabeth had spent days on it, working carefully on the intricacies of a piece of fabric to be burned rather than face the absolute truth: that Luke Castellan died in her arms and she had to see him for who he truly was; a lost boy. There is no hero’s welcome waiting for him in the Underworld, no celebration of his final act of kindness. He was just a boy, misguided and flawed- and now he is gone.

Annabeth takes a deep breath and brings the torch down to the corner of his shroud.

She will not wait by the tree anymore. She will not sit on her own and pray for him to find his way home. She will not fight his battles, stand for his honour when he wasn’t there to do it himself, and she will not be stuck doing the dishes because she got into a fight defending him.

She is older, now. She is wiser. 

There is a certain power- a weight on her back- as she watches the flames lick the smooth fabric. There are no tears to shed, no final words to say. This is how it is, this is how it was always meant to be. 

Her dagger had killed him; but she thinks maybe it hurt her more. The dead aren’t the ones tasked with moving on. The fire turns her handiwork into ash, one inch at a time- blue and yellow flames- and she thinks her dagger pierced her heart just as deeply. With every part of the shroud that burns, the weight of her responsibility, the weight of her power eases from her.

It is her hope that eventually she’ll be a teenager again. She is wise enough now, to  _ want _ that. She catches Percy’s eye, and he raises an eyebrow, small smile on his lips despite it being a funeral, and she thinks there is no better way to honour Luke’s end than with the beginning of a better world for herself.

The shroud, it burns, burns, burns, and Annabeth feels lighter still. Hermes is the first to leave, followed by Mr. D. Then Chiron, then Thalia. May stays for a little while longer, watching hollowly as the fate she’d already predicted comes to be, and then it’s time for her to go, too. Percy walks up to her and kisses the top of her head and slips his hand in hers, leading her away when there’s nothing left for the flames to feed on.

“You okay?” He asks.

It’s a heavy question. What is left to say? Luke was never able to love her the way she needed, just like he wasn’t able to accept her love the way he needed. They let each other down, but Annabeth is the only one who is still breathing. She has a boy here now, his wrist pressed to hers, his cologne hanging in the air around them, and she knows she’s found someone from the world Luke wanted to build- governed by neither god nor man, wild and brave and free. A boy who won’t just accept her love, but celebrate it as he’s done for four years now, and she thinks maybe endings are only bitter so beginnings taste sweeter.

“I will be.” She says. Percy slings his arm over her shoulders and pulls her into him.

“Fuck yeah, you will be.” He says into the top of her head. “You’re going to be fucking invincible.”

The shroud is gone now, taking the power it held over her with it, and Annabeth feels a new kind of power in this freedom.

“You think I could take you, one day?” She asks him and Percy scoffs.

“Baby steps, now.” He laughs. “Not  _ that _ powerful.”

A form of bravery takes over her and she stands on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his and swallowing his laugh. Percy’s hand comes up to her face, cupping her cheek gently while his tongue runs over her lips and the power in her veins feels an awful lot like love. She pulls away and trails kisses up his cheek and to his ear. She drags her teeth along his earlobe and smiles when she feels him shudder.

“Oh, baby. You don’t know the first thing I’m capable of.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Nobody look at me. Teriza, Jade, Katie... do not look at me. I am not a swiftie do not call me a swiftie i will lose years of my life. <3 Just kidding thank u to my love @thelittledeformednut on tumblr for checking my spellings!!!!!!


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